


Armitage Hux and the Worst Vacation Ever

by evilblubber



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Armitage Hux vs Shitty Tourist Kiosks, Chewie deserves better, Established Relationship, Han Solo asked for none of this, Let Kylo Ren Wear Dresses, M/M, That's Not How The Force Works, The Knights of Ren need to calm down, Why Did I Write This?, handwavy force explanations, he is a soft boy, kidnapping is frowned upon in most societies, kylo probably needs therapy?, kylo ren is a hoarder, self indulgent knight ocs, what is happening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilblubber/pseuds/evilblubber
Summary: General Hux has made the mistake of running after Kylo Ren when he gets himself and his idiot Knights into yet another ridiculous situation. This somehow ends in all of them being marooned on a tourist planet, while Hux carries Ren's shopping.All of his shopping.This would be fine, except Han Fucking Solo and his Wookie decide to show up, and everything gets shot further to hell than it already was. This somehow ends in a manic chase across the stars in a cramped shuttle filled with shopping bags and irritating Knights, to go rescue the love of his lifeagain, and Hux is just about ready for death.





	1. for the love of pink ice cream

**Author's Note:**

> so the issue with me posting my fanfiction is that I spend 70% of my time making wildly elaborate scenarios in my head that make no sense once written down and it shows. In this fic. It sHOWS. I'm always afraid that the things I write aren't coherent.
> 
> My Knights of Ren are probably nowhere near Canon™ and I am too tired to care. They don't play a very large role. Please don't hate me. 
> 
> Also this is entirely self indulgent. I just wanted kylo in a sundress shopping for novelty figurines ok

A First Order General and a Knight of Ren walk into a tourist store on a resort planet.

This is not a joke. It is a joke. It is a terrible, horrible, very awful joke and Hux really wants to die right now because _why do these things always happen to him?_

 

* * *

  


Here is how this happened:

The Knights of Ren are an ancient order of powerful force users but their Master is an idiot with very little self preservation and he and three of his dumbfuck Knights got themselves trapped in an ancient Sith temple.

And Kylo, being Kylo and completely incapable of actually admitting defeat, sent Hux a _maker-forsaken selfie._ From within the ancient Sith temple they were trapped in. _While injured._

 _“we got kinda held up,”_ read the caption, _“might take a lil while 2 get back lol”_

The little holo on his comm showed Kylo covered in dust and blood, beaming far too wide for someone that had a sort of clumpy scarlet something smeared on his teeth and mouth. He appeared to be standing in front of a cracked stone dias, which Desir Ren was leaning on. Her arm was twisted at an angle that arms are not supposed to twist in, and she was using her good arm to wave. Hux couldn’t see much of Jun Ren, besides the obvious outline of their body slumped on the ground beside Desir Ren. Phex Ren appeared to be checking their wrist for a pulse.

 _Don’t kriffing move,_ Hux replies, feeling resigned because this was his life now, _I’m coming for you with medical equipment. Send me the coordinates._

_what no we don need ur help hux wtf_

_Nevermind, I’ll find it myself. Do not move._ Hux felt a vein throbbing in his forehead as he snapped the comm shut, before heading to his personal shuttle.  
  
  


* * *

 

It is only after

 

  1. he has run into a temple seething with the Dark Side of the Force armed with nothing but a blaster and Spite
  2. run into a truly staggering number of booby traps
  3. found the Knights, who had apparently tripped and Fallen so far into the Force that they were no longer coherent
  4. convinced Kylo that no, he was not a hallucination
  5. dragged them onto the ship
  6. snapped Phex Ren out of his funk long enough for him to patch up his Master and comrades
  7. and flown the fuck off that hell-hole



that it occurred to him that he could, perhaps, have sent someone else instead of going in himself.

He could have sent someone else, but he is Hux and this was about Kylo and he'd installed a tracker in the man's belt even before they were lovers and it dawns on him that he has no hope of escaping this relationship.

This thought hit him as he sat in the co-pilot’s seat, as Phex (the only functional Ren) piloted them away from the little green shitland.

“What the kriff happened to you, anyway?” Hux asked, instead of smashing his head into the console, which was what he really wanted to do.

Phex Ren was a large man who dwarfed the pilot’s seat, and all Hux could see of him were iridescent yellow eyes peeking out from a slit in his mask. He was a walking bundle of coarse black fabric wrapped around himself, and a _truly obscene_ number of blades, even by Ren standards. When he spoke, his voice was softer than expected.

“The planet we just left is uncharted,” he said, slowly, “a forgotten place, steeped in the Force so deep that even the Sith found it hard to live there. It carries every emotion and feeling of every being that has ever set foot there--it’s just there, caught in the air, and from the minute you set foot there, you are drowning in it.”

Hux, who did not quite know what to make of this, only said, “Then why wasn't I affected?”

He then found himself being side-eyed, before Phex said, flatly, “Hux, you're about as Force sensitive as a _rock_.”

“...ah.”

He was going to ask more questions, such as

  1. what the fuck were you doing in that forsaken place
  2. is my lack of force sensitivity the reason none of you idiots make any sense to me, and
  3. will any of you suffer any lasting effects from this



when the ship juddered violently, causing Hux to jerk forward as the entire world seemed to tilt and roll sideways. He clenched his teeth and braced himself on the seat, and the ship made a worrying groaning noise. After a few terrible tremors, the world stopped moving, and Hux was about to do--- _something---_ when Phex Ren spoke again.

“We need to land somewhere,” he said, sounding terse, “Desir just sneezed.”

“ _What?”_

Phex sighed, and turned in the chair so that he could yell out, “ _Kylo!_ Can you use the Force to land us?”

“IT MIGHT KILL ME, _”_ Kylo replied, from where he was curled up in pain, “BUT SURE.”

 _“What?”_ said Hux.  
  


* * *

 

And so here they are:

 

It is oppressively hot, which means that the ridiculous cotton shirt he’s wearing is sticking to his skin, and he is on the verge of actual murder.

He’s wearing shorts. Little yellow shorts with red horizontal stripes. And _rubber sandals._ And his hair is ruined, and his shirt is pink and he can’t get the comm to work and he is _s w e a t i n g._

“Kill me,” he says, as they enter the little shop that Kylo _absolutely had to_ go into.

Kylo, who is trying on bright yellow plastic sunglasses, looks up with a bright smile that makes Hux grind his teeth. “Lighten up, gingerbread,” Kylo says, looking at himself in a mirror encrusted in plastic shells, “think of this as a vacation.”

“Two of your Knights are bedridden,” Hux says, flatly.

Or more accurately: one Knight (Jun Ren) is bedridden, dizzy from the Force Nonsense that Hux won't think about. The other (Desir Ren) is quarantined because she has a unique connection to the Force appears to have lost all control of it and is liable to destroy the building she is in by _sneezing_. Phex Ren (the only functional Ren) is making sure she doesn't kill everyone in the vicinity.

“Believe me,” says Kylo, who has moved onto trying on a floppy white sunhat, “they are having the time of their _lives_. We never get free time.”

 _Free time,_ apparently, meant being injured and cut off from the Force because of a somewhat sentient hellplanet, and marooned on a tourist trap while dragging one's exhausted lover around the marketplace.

Hux stands there, with sunscreen smeared liberally on his nose, arms crossed stiffly over his chest as Kylo flits around gathering useless kitschy things with a ridiculously delighted expression. A few tiny tourist trap shops ago, the man had found a sundress; white with watery yellow flowers printed at the hem, and he'd grabbed a hold of it and stared at Hux with wide, wet brown eyes.

Telling him he could buy it was, evidently, the beginning of the end. That was three hours ago. Next to Hux is a small pile of useless souvenirs and cheap things in patterned paper bags.

  


(Neither of them point out that the Supreme Leader would likely not allow him to wear the dress too often, or keep the things.

 

The Knights do not shun attachments, but there is nothing _dark side_ about a man in a sundress who likes novelty figurines of small animals.)

  


Kylo tilts his head to a side, having discarded the first hat for a wide brimmed straw replacement, decorated with ridiculously large faux flowers. He adjusts his curls, and glances over to Hux.

The crooked tilt of his smile makes the tacky stick of the sunscreen smeared on his skin worth it. “The first one was better,” he says, instead of, _it's been so long since you've smiled like that._

Kylo’s eyes crinkle in a relaxed sort of joy, and something in Hux melts.

He swaps hats, and walks over to the counter, a giant of a man in flowing cotton, clinging to his plastic sunglasses and hat with a grip that is perhaps too tight, and a smile brighter than the oppressive sun on this hellscape planet.

After he makes his purchases, Kylo walks back, and says, “Want to find an ice cream place?”

“I'm sure they have ice cream back at the hotel,” says Hux, aware that saying this is futile, “You really should be resting.”

Of course, Kylo only laughs, gathering up a few of the paper bags in his arms, and walks out. And Hux follows, which is a new but rather terrifying constant in his life, now.  


 

* * *

 

Here is a secret:

Armitage Hux is not the sort of man to follow another.

Then he met an idiot with a faulty lightsaber and crooked teeth and warm hands who told him that he would die for him.

Snoke meant to pit them against one another, he knows, distantly. And it worked; he'd _hated_ Kylo Ren once.

But it is very hard to hate a man who traces the freckles on your face with a fingertip and makes up constellations, and tells you that you remind him of the endless starscape outside the viewport.  
  


Here is a secret:

Armitage Hux is somewhat helpless to refuse Kylo Ren.

If he asked him now, to drop everything and live out the rest of his life on this stupid resort planet, in terrible heat, he would. In a heartbeat.

He would destroy planets, bring armies to their knees, set the galaxy aflame. He would even go against Snoke himself, if only Kylo asked.

He'd shoot the old, slimy bastard in the head, and crown Kylo in gold. Laurels in his lovely hair, clothe him in silks and rare furs and velvet and tacky sundresses from tourist kiosks that he likes for some obscure reason. He'd keep him in a palace of marble and gold and all the riches he can amass, filled with lush gardens where Kylo can wander and nap in.

He would give him the galaxy, lay it at his feet. If only he _asked_.  
  
  


Here is a secret:

Armitage Hux wishes Kylo would ask.  
  


Here is another:

~~He's considering doing it anyway .~~

  


* * *

 

“I honestly have no idea what half these flavours are,” says Hux, who is now wearing the floppy hat. It is too large for him, and droops over his eyes. He doesn't bother to shift all the bags in his arms to fix it, instead opts for eyeing the colourful ice cream display with distrust.

“I'll choose for you,” says Kylo, and Hux would not have let him, before he fell fast and headlong for this idiot.

“You'll love it,” says Kylo, and Hux knows he will. He feels somewhat as though he doesn't have a choice.  


* * *

 

They decide to stockpile on painkillers, which is a strange habit that the Knights all seem to posses.

This is the result of them being utter idiots who are constantly injured, for one reason or another. Often, these injuries are Force related and border on _impossible_ , and thus the First Order medics are at a loss when faces faced with them.

Honestly, Hux has no one but himself to blame. He should have run when Kylo’s eyes widened and he said, “ _Ooooh, a mall! I haven't been to a mall in years!”_

Hux is licking at his pink ice cream in a resigned manner, noting half heartedly that it is the same pale shade as his shirt. It is meant to be bubblegum, but it just tastes like sugar. Too much sugar. It is, however, pleasantly cold, which is a small blessing in this crowded hellscape.

“That is too many,” says Hux, bemused.

“Have you met us?” says Kylo, holding an armful of pill bottles. And because this is Kylo, whose has fantastically large arms, an _armful_ is quite a lot. “This won't last a month!”

“We don't _need_ enough for a month,” says Hux, patiently, quietly lamenting his misfortune in having fallen for a hoarder. Aboard the Finalizer, his once minimalist quarters are cluttered with things that Snoke’s ascetic vision for the Knights won't allow Kylo to keep.

“ _You don't know that_ ,” Kylo hisses.

“Kylo,” he says, gently, in the tone of a man that has said this several times, “we can get more when we run out.”

Kylo opens his mouth, and Hux notes, fondly, that his lower lip has been chewed so that it bleeds, just a bit. He doesn't get to hear what Kylo has to say (which is no doubt ridiculous, like every other damn thing out of his mouth) because the _literal worst possible thing happens._

 _“Ben?”_ says someone behind them, and Hux freezes.  


 

(The last time Hux heard that name uttered, it was in his own voice, when he said, “ _And you'll never be more than the same scared little boy you've always been-- you'll never grow out of being Ben Solo.”_

And he doesn't even remember why they'd fought, but what he does recall is the way Kylo blinked at him, going from enraged to stricken within seconds,

and he stared, eyes wide and hurt. And pursed his lips, face blank, and walked out of the room.

There was no rage, no crackling heat. He did not hit Hux, or tighten the air around his neck. He just looked stunned, then hurt, as though he'd trusted Hux not to cross that line, the way he didn't call Hux a lonely and loveless bastard that might not know what it is to care for things.

Instead, he didn't talk to Hux for a solid month.)

  
  


Kylo goes pale, eyes widening, and Hux spins around. What he sees is a scruffy-looking old man, with windswept grey hair and a remarkably familiar nose, staring at them with an expression stuck between disbelieving and thrilled.

He looks familiar, but in a way that makes Hux feel like he's missed a step while climbing down the stairs.

“ _Ben,”_ he says, shoving aside a large Twi-lek wearing more plastic jewelry than is decent. He looks pained, and Hux is very aware of the blaster on his hip. His fingers twitch toward his own.  
  


 

[A note: Kylo Ren grew up with parents who were notoriously volatile and then with an order of monks who eschewed attachment and then in a military organization that regularly conquered worlds.

This means that, once faced with an emotion, he largely has no idea what to do. He's a scion of the dark side, and they bleed emotion. He just--rides them out like they are the tide washing over him as he lies helpless and bloody on the shore.

This is why, upon realizing that he was deeply in love with Hux, he immediately choked him half to death. Armitage has long since accepted this, because he is the same, minus the regular destruction of property.

And now, Kylo feels. Many things. Something like existential terror, a bone deep fear and--- and something bright and warm and soft in his chest that still lived there despite all his efforts is _screaming._

Another, smaller part of him thinks, _dad? Daddadaddad--_

And so he does what any rational being would do, once faced with such circumstances.]

  


“No-- _nope,_ ” says Kylo, and Hux startles as the boxes of painkillers are shoved into the already huge pile in his arms. And, before he can react, Kylo _is gone._ He just. Spins around and darts off in a whirl of cheap cotton.

 _Typical,_ he thinks.

It was either this or instant murder. This, he thinks, he can handle.

The old man jolts forward just as Hux's brain comes back online and he decides to fling a pink, frilly box in his face. Apparently he was so fixated on _Ben_ that he managed to somehow not notice the beleaguered ginger beside his son, and the projectile hits him straight between the eyes.

Hux takes the opportunity to run, as Solo curses and follows. His skids put of the shop, cursing these floppy rubber sandals, and fumbles for the communicator in his pocket.

For the first time in perhaps two decades, Armitage Hux thinks, _I need an adult._

“HEY,” yells Solo, because that is _definitely_ Han Solo, that nose is a very distinctive. “HEY, WAIT JUST A MINUTE, YOU GINGER TWINK.”

Hux frowns, outraged, even as he winds around a gaggle of giggling tourists while desperately trying to reach Phex Ren. He is _not_ a twink. If anyone is a twink, it's Kylo, with his terrible hunger for dresses and for someone to hold him down.

He catches sight of a whirl of white and yellow, and stops running, eyes wide in horror.

“Kylo _no,”_ he yells, even as the bastard jumps out of the _fucking window._ Hux lurches forward and leans out, heart thrumming in horror.

He _can't see him._

Solo has apparently caught up, because Hux hears the _click_ of a blaster behind him. He thinks, distantly, that he should care but something in him is frozen. He scans the streets below.

“Listen here--” Solo starts.

“We're on the eighth floor!” yells Hux, voice breaking just a bit in panic.

“Uh,” says Solo, and tries again, blaster still aimed at his head, “Listen, I don't wanna hurt you, but--”

“He can't use the Force!” Hux says, breath coming in shorter puffs, “We're on the eighth floor, he just _jumped out,_ and he can't _use the Force!"_

  
“What,” says Solo, then, “Oh, fuck.”


	2. uncle chewie doesn't deserve this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “HE RAN AWAY FROM HOME AFTER MURDERING HIS PEERS,” says Hux, perhaps a little too loud, “DID YOU HONESTLY THINK HE'D FALL GRATEFULLY INTO YOUR ARMS.”
> 
> “Listen here, you little--”
> 
> “THE ONLY REASON YOU'RE NOT DEAD RIGHT NOW,” says Hux, still maybe a little too loud. A few passing Rhodians startle as he speaks. “IS BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO INCONSEQUENTIAL TO WASTE A BLASTER SHOT ON.”
> 
> “---that was uncalled for--”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this escalated so fast i have no idea what happened. This was going to be small and cute. 
> 
> The Knights refused to leave. We also have Chewie now.

The universe is built of patterns and constants. This is irrefutable. The First Order is an organization that has chosen to embody this, and thus this idea has been drilled into Kylo’s skull, despite his being a walking speederwreck.

Planets move around stars, the Force breathes through everything, and Armitage Hux always steals the blankets at night. This, he knows.

Another such irrefutable constant is that whenever the Master of the Knights of Ren jumps down from a height, Phex Ren will be there to catch him. The Force states thus.

 

Or:

“No- _nope,”_ says Kylo, and his brain is screaming.

So, he panics and high-tails it _the fuck_ out of there because he's in no way prepared to see his fucking father and he _was having fun forcedammit_ why do these things _always happen to him._

(while a large part of him is panicking like a child that just heard their first blaster shot in the distance while lying curled up in a vent, there is little bit of him that's more _petulant_ . This is not _fucking fair._ He just wants a nice shopping trip with his Hux. Fuck everything.)

And so he's running, all wild terror and panic and _aw-this-sucks_. He realizes, distantly, that he's left Hux behind but he is in no way prepared to deal with Han Fucking Solo, so he just fucking runs.

 _Kylo?_ someone says in his head, which is screaming. _Kylo, is that you? What's wrong?_

He sees a window, and lights up inside because finally! A way out! That doesn't involve hiding in a shop display as a strangely lifelike mannequin!

 _AAAAAAAAAH_ , Kylo thinks loudly, which is the only coherent thing in his head, _PHEX I WANT THE FUCK OUT. NOW._

 _okay, what,_ says Phex over the Force bond, which is tentative and shaky because Kylo's use of the Force is still wobbly and unreal.

This is also when Kylo decides to jump. Because that is one does, with windows.

 

 

Or, to explain this in more detail:

There was only so much time that Jun and Desir Ren could stay bedridden in a hotel room with mismatched furniture and beige walls the colour of _actual_ abject misery. She hadn't sneezed or broken anything with a sneeze in an hour. Also, Jun was awake and restless, buried under more blankets than a living being could possibly need in sweltering weather and broken air conditioning.

Which also meant a lot of whining, from the both of them.

In her defense, Desir was really fucking sick of looking at the beige walls spotted with mould and---and a really weird abstract painting that looked like a very wobbly Rhodian that had been taken apart by a sadistic god. This shitty little two-bed room was more _motel_ than _hotel_ and it had an air conditioner that somehow made the room _hotter_.

“Where do you draw the line?” asked Jun, voice still hoarse from the screaming they did earlier. “I mean, what's the difference between a motel and a hotel?”

“Why aren't you asleep?” asked Phex, irritably, from where he was crouched on the armchair. He had one of the scratchy complimentary bathrobes draped around him, and was having a staring contest with a little green roach that had crawled into his knee. He just. Stared at it. Unblinking. For twenty minutes.

 _I don't think he's okay,_ Jun muttered in her head, over the Force bond.

 _It's all the beige,_ Desir replied, sagely. Then, she said aloud, “We're bored.”

Phex looked up at her, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. Desir, however, was not intimidated, on account of the fact that he was in a pink bathrobe covered in ugly roses, staring at a roach he'd probably named already.

Jun widened their eyes, which was less than effective because they were bloodshot and had bags under them, and said, “ _Pleeeeeeeease,_ we've spent _hours_ lying here and I'm ten fucking seconds from getting my goddamn lightsaber and murdering the guy in the next room that keeps singing weird space shanties.”

“He’s been quiet for an hour now,” Phex sighed.

“Maybe he's dead,” said Desir, hopeful.

“You can't just _walk out,”_ Phex said, physically shaking off the distraction from the main conversation, “you need rest! And Des keeps sneezing!”

“Not for a whole hour,” said Desir, smugly. She was a fucking bastion of self control, _suck on that, Hux._ “Also, how often do we get a whole day off without a mission or the looming threat of death hanging over us? We should be making the most of it!”

Phex, unmoved, looked at the both of them with the same bland expression he had right before he killed something, usually. It was scary even with the ugly bathrobe. “Too risky,” he said.

Jun snorted at that, and said, “You know what's _risky?_ Leaving Kylo alone to roam a whole fucking planet, Forceless. _That's_ risky. Even I know that.”

Desir blinked. Phex’s jaw twitched.

“He's with Hux,” he said, but it sounded tentative.

Both Desir and Jun gave him identical unimpressed expressions. “Literally all Kylo has to do is bat his eyes at him,” Desir said, amused, “and firecrotch would _actually_ buy him this entire planet. I think he has enough money to do that.”

Phex deflated, slumping back on the chair. “Fuck,” he whispered, closing his eyes, “I hate all of you.”

Desir grinned.

And Jun, who still hadn't regained their full control in the Force department, shot up from their pillow pile and squealed, “ _You're naming it Phillip!”_

 

So:

They're wandering the crowded street, Desir and Phex in their undershirts and leggings because it's so hot that Desir is sweating an actual _ocean_. Jun, conversely, has swaddled their skinny frame in all of their robes at once, shivering on occasion.

“I think that hell planet broke my temperature regulation,” they say, sniffing miserably.

Desir hums in sympathy, rubbing at one padded shoulder. She eyes a vendor that they pass by, carrying novelty cigarette lighters, and says, “Hey, Phex, can we--"

“We aren't getting anything, because none of us have any credits.”

“But _Phex_ \--” says Desir and Jun, in the practiced unison of two people that have spent a very long time being annoying together.

Then, before they can heckle him further, they all feel a sudden burst of bright panic in the backs of their heads. It's wild and uncontrolled and cracking over a Force bond held together by imaginary duct tape and prayers--

“Kylo?” says Phex, frowning.

 _AAAAAAAAAAH,_ says Kylo in a sudden staticky screech in her head. Their bond is weird and warped, held together only on Desir and Phex’s side because Jun and Kylo are too Out of It.

(Or, Kylo is Out of It and Jun is All Over the Place. There is a difference.)

“What's happening---” says Jun, blaster in hand and it's more than a little concerning that no one on the street takes notice of that. “Phex-”

“ _Kylo, we have talked about this,”_ mutters Phex in an agitated tone, and surges forward across the bustling street, arms outstretched. He looks more resigned than panicked.

And, because Kylo is Kylo, there's a distant flutter of white from above, dropping down like a very heavy man that just jumped out of a window.

 

  
  
  
[a note: Kylo Ren developed a very bad habit of jumping off high places when he was first introduced to the Dark Side, and it scared Phex Ren to bits every time.

See, once upon a time, Kylo Ren was little knobbly kneed Ben Solo who had a bit of a death wish, or at least a staggering dose of  _I-wish-I-was-never-born._  And he was entirely capable of catching himself with the Force before he hit the ground, but little Not Quite Ben Solo Anymore always had a tiny part of him that wanted to hit the ground hard and fast. Close his eyes and fall and fall and hit the ground and never open them again.

Little Not Quite Ben Solo Anymore probably needed therapy, in retrospect.

And Phex, only a few years older and suddenly carted off with a gang of littler teenagers steeped in the Dark and more than a few Issues, had a fucking heart attack every time.

So he caught him. Every time. Somehow. Always.

Or, he tried to. He ran after him when he swan dived off the beams on the starships they were assigned to, and off cliffsides on planetary missions. He caught him off the sides of buildings, and off exploding speeders.

Of course, this ended with the pair of them getting injured more often than not, but the fact of the matter is that if Kylo Ren jumps off a high place, he is usually under the impression that the universe will rearrange itself to allow Phex Ren to catch him.

Somehow, this has not backfired on any of them.]

  


“Wow,” says Jun, just as a Phex skids to a halt across the street, just in time to catch Kylo. “He really needs to stop doing that.”

Kylo, who is apparently wearing a sundress, slides out of Phex’s arms and adjusts the very large sunhat on his head. Then, he grabs his arm and runs toward them, eyes wild.

“HAN FUCKING SOLO,” he yells, narrowly avoiding becoming roadkill, dragging a bewildered Phex with him.

“What,” says Jun. And, “did he just jump from the eighth floor without the Force.”

Desir grabs his arm as he tries to pass by, slick with sunscreen and sweat, and holds onto him. Phex grabs his shoulders from behind.

“Buddy,” she says lowly, looking at him in the eye, “Breathe.”

His eyes are wide and wild and too-bright, and he's shaking all over, probably ten seconds away from a murder or crying jag.

“Han Solo,” he says, shakily. He sniffs. And then, “wait, I left him with Armie, _oh fuck.”_

“Armie, who apparently let you jump out of a building,” says Jun, from behind Desir.

“He'll be fine,” says Desir, low and even, “just get outta here with Jun and Phillip and Phex, okay? I'll go get gingerspice.”

 

(If it were anyone other than General Tightass, Desir would suggest they just up and run.

But, despite being a dick who woke up one morning and decided to build a star destroyer, but he'd die for Kylo Ren.

He probably doesn't deserve him, because no one is ever really good enough for their Kylo, but he'd die for him. And that means _something_ .)

(Plus, the guy's like a weed. A weed with shoulder pads on his greatcoat and sharp eyes and a habit of putting trackers on all the Knights so he can obsessively make sure they're alive. A weed that makes Kylo smile and might overthrow Snoke to maintain said smile.

He grows on you.)

  
  


Kylo, who is no longer breathing like he's on the verse of crying, frowns. “Who's Phillip?”

Phex removes one of his hands and reaches into his pocket, pulls out the little green roach. He holds it out to Kylo, who grins, delighted.

“He's beautiful,” says Kylo, eyes softening and turning slightly so that he can stroke its twitchy back with a finger. The roach, skittish, scuttles down his arm.

“I don't think he'd do too well on the _Finalizer,_ though,” says Phex, catching it in his hands.

“Nah, roaches can survive anything,” says Desir, rubbing the residual sunscreen from Kylo off on her shirt.

“We'll build him a terrarium,” says Kylo, with the solemn weight of promise. It sounds like a vow. Then, he says to Desir,  “Please go save Armie from my father.”  
  


Hux is running down the stairs, still carrying a few of the bags in one hand because he is _just that in love,_ and holding his blaster with the other.

Behind him, Han Solo struggles to keep up.

“Wait, why can't he use the Force?” Solo asks, as they scramble down the stairs because the stupid fucking elevator is broken.

“Because he's an _idiot,”_ hisses Hux, “and this is _your fault!”_

“I didn't ask him to jump out of a window!”

“You upset him! He jumps off places when he's upset!”

“What does that even--”

“HE RAN AWAY FROM HOME AFTER MURDERING HIS PEERS,” says Hux, perhaps a little too loud, “DID YOU HONESTLY THINK HE'D FALL GRATEFULLY INTO YOUR ARMS?"

“Listen here, you little--”

“THE ONLY REASON YOU'RE NOT DEAD RIGHT NOW,” says Hux, still maybe a little too loud. A few passing Rhodians startle as he speaks. “IS BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO INCONSEQUENTIAL TO WASTE A BLASTER SHOT ON.”

“---that was uncalled for--”

Hux pauses on the steps and turns, giving him a look of venom. It is crazed and manic, and he is in a pastel pink shirt and carrying patterned paper bags from novelty gift shops. He is pale and frecklier than usual, and there is a smear of sunscreen just under his jaw, and this might have meant he looked comical but there is a look in his eye that says, _I woke up one morning and built a machine that can destroy entire star systems do you really want to make me angrier than I am now._

Han Solo, however, is the same man who looked at a spitfire girl who stared Darth Vader in the eye and fucking scoffed, and thought, _yep, this is what I want to spend the rest of my life with._ So his self preservation instinct is somewhat skewed.

So, instead of shutting up, as any sane person faced with Armitage Hux would, he says, “Who the hell are you, anyway? Why are you here with Ben?”

They've both stopped running, and Hux is thinking, _Kylo could be hurt what the fuck are we wasting time for,_ but he says, “It doesn't concern _you.”_

And he turns and starts running down the steps again, and Han struggles to keep up.

“Do you know _who I am?”_

“Yes, that nose is quite distinctive.”

Han is about to  _really_ lay it on the guy, but they are interrupted by a tortuga woman barreling up the steps and yelling out, “FIRECROTCH! YOU'RE ALIVE!”

She's about two inches from Hux's face, and sweaty, but he's thrilled anyway. “Where's Kylo?” he asks, and he is proud of the fact that his voice does not break.

Desir Ren grins widely, with too much teeth, and pulls out her saber. The woman behind her makes a startled noise with her eight eyes wide open in horror, and scuttles back down the stairs.

“He's fine,” she says, eyeing Han Solo with an almost vicious look on her face, “Phex caught him.”

“ _Ohthankthe--_ wait, how did he-?”

He's cut off by the saber igniting a searing yellow, and Desir saying, “Hey, Solo, Kylo doesn't wanna talk right now. I'm giving you ten seconds to run.”

Han Solo might have skewed self preservation instincts, but he isn't straight up suicidal, and so he backs up, eyes narrowed.

“Close enough,” says Desir, drily and then, with more menace, “Don't follow us, or you'll have to deal with all of us. You're outnumbered, and Kylo's probably gone anyway.”

And she grabs Hux's arm, which is also slick with sweat and sunscreen and thus _disgusting,_ and drags them both down the steps.

“What's with all the boxes?” asks Desir, as they walk.

“Don't," says Hux. He has no idea why he's still carrying them.

 

They get out of the mall from Hell and onto the street, only to find that Kylo is yelling something at a very large and very hairy Wookie. Interestingly, none of the passing tourists find anything wrong with an enraged man in a sundress cursing hysterically at a living shag carpet.

The shag carpet impression is solidified by the fact that he is pinned to the ground by Jun Ren, who looks like they're wearing eight layers of clothes, with one skinny arm held out.

“Oh my gods,” says Desir, incredulous, “he just _can't_ catch a break.”

“I'm never letting any of you off the ship again,” says Hux, resolutely, “you're all going to live on the _Finalizer_ , and you'll never leave again, and I can have peace.”

  
  
  


Kylo has  _just about had it_ with the universe in general, judging by how high pitched his voice was getting. Also, he's cursing in Huttese, which Phex was not previously aware he even knew.

About ten seconds after Desir had run off to rescue Hux, a fucking Wookie showed up with a bowcaster and attempted to swallow Kylo whole in a hug. Or maybe he was trying to abduct him.

They might never know, because Kylo immediately shoved him off, and Jun pinned him down with the Force. Phex was just sort of resigned to the fact that today is going to be a series of stupid things happening one after the other.

“WHAT ARE YOU EVEN HOPING FOR?” Kylo is yelling “FOR ME TO FALL GRATEFULLY INTO YOUR ARMS? AFTER YOU CHARGED US WITH A KRIFFING BOWCASTER?”

The Wookie grunts and says something Phex can't understand, and Kylo says, “You _always_ assume the worst!”

Another volley of grunts, and Kylo replies, “Listen, my aesthetic is not one static thing and  _I can dress like a tacky tourist if I want to.”_

The Wookie whines something mournful, and it sounds long and heartfelt, and Kylo deflates, brow twisting in pain. “I can't,” he says, quietly, “I can't do that, Chewie. I'm sorry.”

Jun, who is holding him down with the Force, says, “Can we hurry this up? My arm's getting tired.”

Phex rolls his eyes, and Kylo glowers at them.

The Wookie says something quietly, and Kylo looks down at him, and he blinks.

“I'm sorry,” he says, sounding pained. He's blinking too fast, and his hands clench around air. “I'm _sorry,_ but I can't.”

The Wookie looks at him sadly.

Feeling like he's intruding on something private despite only understanding half the conversation, Phex looks away. He then catches sight of Hux and Desir standing a few paces away, taking in the scene with identical expressions of confusion.

“Jun’s going to hold you down for a bit while we run,” Kylo says, voice no longer on the verge of crying, “You'll be free in a few minutes.”

The Wookie says something, looking up with an almost stricken look on his face. Kylo flinched, but does not respond. He turns, and walks away.

“Sorry, hun,” says Jun to the Wookie, who is yelling something after them, and drags Phex along with them.

“Hey, wait for us!” Desir yells, in the distance, and Phex sighs.  


(Kylo Ren is very carefully not thinking about his uncle, pinned to the ground on the sidewalk, yelling out, _please, Ben! Let us take you home! Ben! We miss you so much--_ )

 

“Why did no one on the street react to that?” asks Desir.

“Desir, I'm going to shove you in front of a speeder," says Kylo.

  
  
  


here is a secret:

Chewie was the first to hold Ben Solo. 

Leia gave birth in typical Leia fashion-- unexpected and inconvenient. Little baby Ben was a month or so early, and Han was in the cockpit flying the Falcon away from a few thugs who claimed Han owed them a significant amount of money. Which he absolutely did.

She'd clutched at her belly while Chewie guarded the door, listening as Han fought off three incredibly angry men, and said, blankly, “Chewie, my water just broke.”

“ _Of course it did,”_ Chewie said, " _I have no idea how human births work.”_

“Don't worry, I've read up on it.”

And so she gave birth while they flew away from two firing ships, and the floor juddered as Chewie held the squalling little thing who decided to show up at the worst possible time. It was, thankfully, also a quick birth.

" _You have your father's good sense,”_ Chewie told him, cradled tiny and breakable and screaming in his hands. “ _Which is to say, you have none. I'm sorry, little cub.”_

Leia smiled like the break of dawn even as the world turned and swooped, as Baby Ben was silenced from his yelling by the prospect of his mother and food, and Han yells out, “Chewie, take the cockpit! I wanna see my boy!”

Baby Ben, so tiny and new and red in his face, gurgled grumpily. _Why am I here,_ he seemed to say.

“ _This is your own fault,”_ Chewie told him. “ _We didn't plan for you until much later.”_

Ben, tiny Baby Ben with his very tiny fingers that could not cling to the back of his parents like Chewie’s own children could, yawned. He couldn't even hold his own head up.

“ _How will he survive if he can't even bite things?_ ” he asked Leia.

“He'll grow teeth eventually,” she replied, stroking Ben’s sparse curls.

(Eventually, he did. The galaxy regretted it.)

  


Here is a secret:

 

“ _What are you even wearing? You look like the cover of a knockoff tourist calendar from Chandrila,”_ Chewie says, instead of roaring out the rage and heartbreak he feels because little baby Ben is somehow this battle worn man standing before him. “ _Are those plastic sunglasses? What have you become?”_

“Listen, my aesthetic is not one static thing and  _I can dress like a tacky tourist if I want to,”_ Ben replies, heatedly, and oh, that _stings_ because he sounds like the same boy who bought a pretty blue dress in secret at twelve (something nice that _didn't_ look like he nabbed it from a tourist kiosk) and refused to take it off, ignoring any protests because _I like it, dad! I don't care if I look like a girl, at least I don't look like I've never heard of a sonic shower._

The same boy who claimed to not want to be a jedi because _the_ _robes look like someone just cut some holes in a burlap sack, uncle Chewie, this is going to be torture._

Oh, he sounds _the same._ He sounds like _Ben_ \-- this is not the masked monster he expected, not the cruel wrathful thing his baby Ben had become, this is Ben Solo except taller and with a few more scars.

Ben Solo, older and with blood on his hands, terrible and feared over the galaxy, but _the same._

Something in Chewie breaks.

“ _Please,”_ he says, “ _Ben, please. Come home. I'm--we're sorry--we can protect you from Snoke. Leia will forgive you, and even if she doesn't, I can take you. I'll make sure Han and Leia don't see you, if you want. You don't have to go to them-- the Order’s going to kill you, Ben. Please, I can keep you safe.”_

And Ben wavers, big brown eyes looking at him and carving into his soul because they're _the same_ he's _still Ben--_

“I can't,” he says, and it sounds like he honestly regrets it. Like he's trapped, like he can't find a way out and he knows it deep in his bones and Chewie is struck by it. He sounds resigned. “I can't do that, Chewie. I'm sorry.”

“ _Can't or won't, cub? What're you going to do, when Snoke decides you've become too powerful for him? He's going to leave you, Ben."_

But Ben looks away, says something about letting him go, and takes the others--his Knights?-- with him when he leaves.  


_Oh, Ben,_ thinks Chewie. He lies there, and thinks about the way this boy used to fit in his hands.

 

* * *

 

“Ah,” says Hux, looking at his comm, “Captain Phasma’s informed me that a shuttle will arrive to pick us up in four hours.”

He glances over at Kylo, who is walking beside him while clinging to his shirt with clenched fists. His face is drawn.

“Can we go get more ice cream?” he asks, voice small.

Hux smiles gently at him, cursing Solo and his goddamn Wookie, and says, “Sure.”

“Yeah, its not like things could go _more wrong,”_ says Jun.

Phex sighs, and says, “You're going to regret saying that.”

 

[a note: he's right.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAPPENED. WHAT IS THIS. IS THIS CRACK? IS THIS SAD? DID IT GROW A PLOT? WHAT?


	3. is kidnapping your son still kidnapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They're probably off the planet by now,” says Han, still somewhat reeling from seeing his son. His son, flesh and blood, standing far too tall and having grown into his awkwardly long limbs. His son, who maybe collects novelty figurines after having crossed over to the Dark Side.  
> His son, alive and nearby. His son, his Ben, his son.  
>  _“I have a feeling,”_ says Chewie, waving the Actual Fucking Paper Map.   
>  "I have the feeling I'm gonna regret this," says Han.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen. Listen i realize that this story and rambly and makes no sense but it is one of the few things giving me joy anymore pls don't hate me

“Why is there a roach on your shoulder,” asks Hux, staring at the thing that's twitching on Phex’s shoulder. The statement is flat, because he feels flat, and he isn't really surprised that there's a green roach on the Knight's shoulder, having scuttled out from under his collar. Jun had given him his shirt back a while ago, and he'd donned it with an expression of mild disgust. 

“That's Phillip and we love him,” says Jun.

“Can we build him a terrarium?” asks Kylo.

Hux blinks once, and looks down at his mint green ice cream, which is mint flavoured and melting. He is aware that he has done terrible things, but surely nothing is so bad as to warrant this.

“He's so cute,” Kylo says, smiling that stupid smile and leaning over to run a finger  _ over the back of the roach. _

“This is an eating establishment,” Hux hisses, leaning over the table to smack his hand away, “that's unhygienic!”

When Kylo gives him a face that's unnecessarily sad, all tragic wet eyes and downturned mouth, Hux adds, “At least wait until you're done with your sundae.”

“ _ Fine,”  _ Kylo huffs, poking his tongue out at him. 

“How is anyone afraid of you,” Hux asks, as flat as he was before.

“It's the helmet,” Kylo tells him in a grave tone, scooping up an obscene amount of chocolate ice cream with his tiny plastic spoon. He shoves it in his mouth, and immediately screws up his face because the cold has frozen his brain.

“It certainly can't be your demeanor,” says Hux, drily. Kylo, who is still recovering from this sudden attack on his head, doesn't respond. 

Jun and Desir snigger from where they're tangled around one another, sharing an outrageously large pseudo-tropical pile of ice cream with a shiny red umbrella on top. 

“Can we smuggle candy back on board?” Kylo asks, suddenly. 

The other Knights all look at him, consideringly.

“That would be contraband and against regulation,” says Hux, after finishing up the last of his ice cream, “but there is the fact that there isn't anyone that can stop us, since we're the highest ranking officers on the ship.”

They all turn their eyes to Hux. Jun, Desir and Phex are varying degrees of incredulous, and Kylo looks thrilled. 

“Who  _ are _ you?” asks Jun, sounding torn between horror and awe.

Hux sighs, reaching out for a paper napkin that somehow feels grainy, and says, “Love has changed me in some deeply disturbing ways.” He sounds matter of fact, and this causes Phex to snort into his milkshake.

Kylo looks smug. Which, Hux has to admit, he should. After all, he has the man who built Starkiller wrapped around his little finger. He could mention off-handedly that he didn't like the weather on some planet, and Hux would blast it out of the sky for him. 

  
  
  
  
  


None of them ask what the Wookie said.

And if Kylo is a little louder, his eyes a little brighter and wilder, they don't mention that either.

  
  
  
  
  


They end up buying a truly staggering amount of sweets--mostly boxes of rich, decadent chocolate and an assortment of cakes in tempered boxes. And jellybeans. Phex, being the muscle, carried then with an air of resignation. 

Kylo would have been relegated this job, but he kept flitting ahead, and pointing at things he wanted with a winsome look at Hux. And Hux, who is a sucker and the only one among them with a credit chip, ends up buying whatever it is he points at.

Phex puts his foot down when he points to an enormous stuffed Wookie, about an inch shorter than Phex himself and strangely reminiscent of the one they left behind. 

Hux thinks that he will keep this observation to himself. And promptly buries the thought, where no wayward Force user would find it.

“That thing is  _ outrageously large, _ ” says Phex, looking at Kylo sternly.

“So are you,” Kylo points out, “but we still love you.”

Hux snorts, because it occurs to him he's in love with an actual child. Desir and Jun are recording this exchange with his comm.

“Don't encourage him,” Phex says, turning to Hux, which. Which makes him feel like a junior cadet who just set his bunkmate on fire all over again. And he doesn't know how to handle that.

[A note: murder is a healthy part of any Academy experience.]

Turning back to Kylo, he says, “Still a no, Kylo. Master Snoke won't even let you keep it!”

“I can't believe this!” huffs Kylo, stomping his foot and tossing his hair. He strides ahead of them angrily, and by this point, Desir is in hysterics. Jun only hums in amusement.

 

* * *

 

 

Han finds Chewie scouring a little novelty tourist shop right outside the mall.

“I just saw Ben,” he says, slightly hysterical. “ _ Ben!” _

Chewie, who is trying to make himself small enough to not overviews the tiny store, looks up. There's something like steel in his eyes. 

“ _ I did, too, _ ” he replies, and it's low and quiet. “ _ I've been asking around to see if anyone's seen him. It looks like he's developed an attachment to kitsch. I think he's collecting novelty figurines? The Dark Side really has changed him.” _

Han blinks, unable to process most of that. “He run from you, too?” he says, because it will never not hurt that his son took one look at him and  _ jumped out of a window. _

He looked so  _ different,  _ but also not exactly the maniacal Sith Lord he expected. The sundress was a surprise, but he feels like it shouldn't have been. Ben always was into anything that would get him out of actually wearing pants.   
  
  
  


Here is a secret:

_ Did he turn to the Dark Side because I told him that dresses were for girls? _ Han Solo would wonder, lying in bed at night.  _ Those Sith robes of his are almost dresses. Maybe it's the lack of a conctere dress code that lured him over. _

“It was Snoke,” Leia would say, also lying awake and wondering. “It wasn't us, it was Snoke.”

And Han would try and not think about how she sounds like she's convincing herself.   
  


 

Here is a secret:

Ben Solo turned to the Dark Side because he felt like it was inevitable. Having a voice in your head and a legacy on your shoulders that told you that you had no choice does  _ things _ to you. Twists your reality, makes you think that the people you love think of you as a burden. That you're trapped, feared and unwanted. 

Ben Solo turned to the Dark Side because he felt like he was alone except for a voice in his head. He felt like he had nothing else, like this was the inevitable trajectory of his life.

Or, that's what Chewie tells himself.   
  


 

here is another:

None of them can bear to think that it might be something inherently Dark in  _ Ben _ . It was Snoke, they tell themselves as they try to sleep.

  
  


and another:

It's hard to find it in yourself to hate your own child, even when he grows tall and terrible and murders his own peers in cold blood. The only one of them that even comes close is Leia.   
  
  
  


“ _ You could say that, _ ” says Chewie, gingerly putting down an actual paper map of the area, " _H_ _ e and the skinny pale one have apparently been in and out of shops in this area all day.” _

“They're probably off the planet by now,” says Han, still somewhat reeling from seeing his son. His son, flesh and blood, standing far too tall and having grown into his awkwardly long limbs. His son, who maybe collects novelty figurines after having crossed over to the Dark Side.

His son, alive and nearby. His son, his Ben, his son.

“ _ I have a feeling,”  _ says Chewie, waving the Actual Fucking Paper Map. 

"I have the feeling I'm gonna regret this," says Han.

 

* * *

 

 

“We only have two and a half hours left,” Hux says half-heartedly, from where he and Phex are watching the chaos unfold. 

Kylo has a small mountain of clothes draped on one arm, and is holding a white crop top against Jun’s torso, head tilted in consideration.  

“We can't buy all of them,” he calls out, weakly. He's already calculating the price for all of this. He is weeping on the inside.

This is what he gets for willingly leading Kylo to the largest clothing store in the district. But the way his face lit up still makes something in Hux’s heart melt.

“I hate what I've I become,” he tells Phex. 

Desir had looked at the way Jun and Kylo were  _ vibrating with joy _ and made the very sane decision to opt out. 

(None of the others have the heart to point out that they might never get to wear these clothes. They aren't exactly conducive to life as a mindless weapon for a military organization.)

“I'm gonna go stock up on medical supplies,” she'd said, backing out of the store slowly, as Jun pulled on a short skirt with an expression of pure glee.

“ _ We have so much already,”  _ Hux had hissed, but ultimately let her make her escape. 

Jun has now ducked into a changing room, and Kylo dumped yet another bag on Hux. Just as he's about to protest this demotion from General of the First Order to Pack Mule, Kylo ducks forward and pecks him on the lips, effectively killing all brain processes. Struck dumb, he watches Kylo wander off toward another section.

(It can't hurt, he thinks. Nevermind that he can't use these until Hux has killed Snoke and taken over the Order. He's having fun, which is not something they often have.)

“You're such a sucker,” Phex tells him, amused. He's leaning against the wall, the contraband candy pile on the floor next to him Hux hopes that Phillip Ren has not found his way into any of the packages. “I mean, we used to be afraid you'd break his heart, but you're so stupid in love that it isn't even an option anymore.”

“I know,” says Hux, mournful. He puts the boxes of clothes, already purchased, on the ground beside the others. “I don't think I remember how to not love him.”

“That's both strangely poetic and also sad,” Phex says. 

“I take comfort in the fact that no one else would ever believe it of me.”

  
  
  


Han stares apprehensively at the ridiculously large clothing store.

“Why couldn't he be into something  _ else?”  _ he asks, abjectly horrified. Every instinct in him is telling him to run.

“ _ Like murder? _ ” says Chewie, pointedly. 

“While I see your point,” Han concedes, “How are you so sure he's here?”

_ “I'm sure,”  _ says Chewie, “ _ And if you're right and his connection to the Force really has gone bad, then this might be the only chance we get.” _

Han swallows, and clenches his fist around his blaster, set to stun. 

 

 

“This is perfect,” says Kylo, holding up a flowy, lacey little thing, all pale pink and a neckline studded with white pearls.

“Hun, I don't know how to tell you this,” says Jun, who is trying on an elegant skirt that is incredibly impractical and will never be worn because the life they live is largely composed of bloody battles interspersed with being stationed on military starships, “but you're built like a shit brick house, and I don't think even one of your thighs will fit in that little thing.”

It's true. Kylo has thighs that could snap a Wookie’s neck.

Kylo rolls his eyes violently, a habit he'd picked up from Hux, who had picked it up from spending time with them. “It's for  _ Armie,” _ he says, holding it to their face. “You think he'll like it?”

They squint at it, moving back a little. Which is hard, because they're both wedged into the same tiny changing room. 

“He'd look adorable,” they admit. “It'd go well with that hair of his.”

Kylo beams. “Great,” he says, well aware that Hux would die in something so far removed from the world of First Order uniforms, “I'm getting it for him.”

“Mm,” they hum, then pause, hands frozen from where they were smoothing out wrinkles in the skirt. “Shit, I left that shirt I wanted to try on outside. Could you get it for me?”

“Why can't you get it yourself?”

In response, Jun gestures to their bare chest, face blank. “My nipples are less acceptable in society than yours,” they say.

“A travesty,” says Kylo solemnly, moving them aside so he can walk out, “because they're pretty amazing.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

Kylo ducks out, giggling. He's wearing a fantastic-but-impractical looking pair of tight jeans, and a sleeveless black shirt that ends just below his pectorals. Armie’s going to take one look at his exposed abdomen and hipbones and weep tears of joy. 

And maybe jump his bones. Kylo  _ really _ hopes he jumps his bones.

And the jeans are almost perfect, except for a little looseness around the waist. Kylo fixed that by pulling on his own belt, fished out from the bag he'd stuffed his actual robes into after buying the sundress. But his ass looks  _ great _ .

He picks up Jun’s shirt, which is all lace and straps, discarded on a pile they'd left behind on a nearby bench. The attendants are giving them a wide berth, which might be because Jun pulled out at least twenty knives and a lightsaber out of their voluminous robes when they wanted to change. Which they handed over to Phex, because he's the Adult Friend now.

Then, a voice behind him says, “Son, I don't know how tell you this, but that isn't going to fit you.”

Fuck.

  
  
  
  
  
  


here is a secret:

Ben giggles. Ben is laughing, and shopping on a shitty tourist planet in a sundress--now swapped for a pair of incredibly tight jeans and a shirt that looks way too tiny for him. 

Ben is smiling, and his eyes are bright and his hair is long and pulled back in a messy set of braids. Ben is smiling, and looks nothing like Han imagined he would look like, after falling to the Dark Side.

Ben is smiling, and he looks happier than Han had seen him even  _ before.  _ At least, for a while. As he grew older, Ben Solo got quieter and quieter and less smiley and more like he was carrying some kind of weight no one else could see. 

But here is Ben, having fallen to the Dark Side, gone rogue and to the enemy, and smiling and shopping with his Sith Lord friends.

Han does not know what to make of this. And so he doesn't think about it.

  
  
  
  
  


Ben turns, and Han shoots. The blast, the lowest setting Han can achieve, hits him square in the chest. Ben's eyes widen, and he is probably thinking something regretful about not being careful enough, or maybe he's cursing Han. Han can't tell.

Chewie catches him.

There's the bang of a door swinging open behind him, and Han turns to find that an enraged Twi-lek is attempting to murder him with the Force.

But, what Han doesn't know is that Jun’s connection to the Force is spiffy and strange right now, and they'd recently used it to hold down a Whole Wookie. So they're exhausted and weak, and the invisible hand choking him is frail easily thrown off. 

(This is what happens when you go into a changing room unarmed, kids. Your friend gets kidnapped by his estranged smuggler dad and his walking carpet buddy.)

Less easily thrown off, however, is the enraged Twi-lek themself, who has decided that using the Force is useless and thus resorted to melee fighting. 

(Which is also weak because Jun is freezing and supposed to be on bed rest, which they got out of by annoying Phex to death. They have many regrets.)

Han yelps and fires at them, which misses by a ridiculous margin and the next thing he knows, he's being physically assaulted by a tiny person. A tiny person who has him in a chokehold.

Chewie, sighing exasperatedly like this isn't in any way a situation fraught with danger, plucks the Twi-lek off Han. With one arm.

“WHAT THE FUCK,” the tiny person is yelling, as Chewie holds them up by the arm, “LET HIM THE FUCK GO, FUCK, WHERE'S MY LIGHTSABER WHEN I NEED IT.”

“ _ You Dark Side types are always so violent,”  _ says Chewie, and tosses them aside like a used tissue, which sends them straight into a row of clothing racks. Immediately, Han grabs the blaster and shoots at them, which means they stay down.

Han stares at the chaos. Distantly, he hears more yelling, and scrambles to his feet. He points the blaster at the three attendants staring in frozen horror.

“You saw nothing,” he says, looking each of them in the eyes. They stare, apparently unsure of what to do in the face of two men kidnapping a customer in plain sight. Han is unsure of what to do in the face of such gross incompetence.

Looking put-upon, Chewie grabs Han’s blaster and stuns them, too. 

“ _ I think we should run,”  _ he says. 

As they exit the store via the back entrance after knocking out a few guards and one more attendant, Han says, “That went better than I expected.”

  
  
  
  


Hux and Phex, tired of waiting, went looking for them.

They scoured three floors in their search, and Phex grabbed a shopping cart for all of their bags and boxes and packages. Which Hux and his skinny arms appreciated greatly.

“Are they trying on everything in the store?” Hux sighs, as the elevator brings them to the fourth floor of their search.

“Ugh, they actually might. And where the hell is Desir?”

The doors open, and they are met with:

  1. one (1) destroyed set of clothing racks, slightly smoking. Atop this mangled pile is Jun Ren, unconscious
  2. three (3) unconscious attendants, recognizable because of their ugly green vests and 
  3. no (0) Kylo in sight.



“What the  _ fuck, _ ” says Hux, softly.

  
  
  
  
  


here is a secret:

Kylo Ren is much heavier than Ben Solo, and bulkier.

But he still fits in Chewie’s arms.

  
  
  
  
  


“ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT IN THE TEN SECONDS I WAS GONE,” Desir yells, “KYLO SOMEHOW GOT  _ KIDNAPPED?” _

Hux, pressing a bacta patch into the back of Jun’s head, gives her a sharp look. It's a look that's close to murder.

“WHY ARE WE SUCH IDIOTS?  _ OF COURSE  _ SOLO WASN'T JUST GOING TO WALK AWAY.”

“Des, your yelling is the opposite of helpful right now,” says Phex.

“WHY WERE THEY UNARMED,” yells Desir, but in an angry whisper, “AND WHY DID WE LEAVE THEM ALONE WHEN THEY'RE THE  _ ONLY ONES _ WHO'RE ALL FORCE WONKY?”

“Mistakes were made,” starts Phex, only to be cut off by Desir screaming angrily into her fist.

“Phasma will be here soon,” says Hux, who is very carefully not screaming in rage, “and then we're going to hunt them down and murder Solo slowly and brutally.”

“And maybe take a nap,” says Jun faintly. “A  _ long  _ nap.”   
  
  
  


They've relocated back to the shitty hotel room, and Hux is staying calm.

Hux is staying calm, because Solo and the Wookie obviously want Ben alive in the ridiculous hope that he'd revert to the Light Side and turn traitor. 

Hux is calm, because the Knights might be walking disasters and Kylo might have about as good a grip on the Force as one might have on a wet bar of soap, but they'll find something to--

“Wait,” says Hux, struck by inspiration, “what was he wearing?”

“Who? Kylo?” asks Jun, who is buried under all the blankets they could find, and has gone back to shivering miserably. 

Hux nods, frantic.

“Um, it was a black crop top with this flower embroidered on the chest--”

"I  _ mean _ ,” says Hux with exaggerated patience, “was he wearing his belt?”

Jun blinks, and says, “Actually, yeah. The jeans he picked out were too loose and he wanted to see how it'd look.”

Hux bares his teeth in a smile too wide and says, “ _ Excellent _ .” He sits up straight and starts rummaging through the bags to find his datapad, which should be charged by now.

“What am I missing here?” asks Phex.

“You sound like a villain from a cheap holodrama,” says Desir.

“I installed a tracker in his belt before we got together,” Hux explains.

“That's great!” says Desir, straightening from where she is sprawled on the floor, “ _ Nice _ one, firecrotch!”

“That's  _ concerning,” _ says Phex. “What the hell, Hux?  _ Before  _ you got together?”

“I have control issues,” Hux says. “And he was out of control.”

“You need to calm down,” Jun tells him, “Like, existentially.”

“Probably,” Hux agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hux needs to calm down probably??? and you know what this means!! ROAD TRIP ACROSS THE STARS. TO RETRIEVE THEIR KYLO.
> 
> kylo, who is v upset at being kidnapped mid-shopping trip

**Author's Note:**

> Han Solo gets the feeling that he should be used to these things.


End file.
